


Tales from Hogwarts

by ambrosinos



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: 90's Music, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Awkward Flirting, Fluff, Handsome Jack & Timothy Lawrence are Twins, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24831703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambrosinos/pseuds/ambrosinos
Summary: Tim certainly hadn’t intended for it to happen, but he had begun to think of Rhys more and more. He still hadn’t figured out what the mysterious white strings were, and hadn’t found the chance to speak to Rhys since the library.Tim was determined, however.
Relationships: Timothy Lawrence/Rhys
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Tales from Hogwarts

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I've been kicking this idea around in my head for about a week now, and I'm so glad to have it down in writing! Few things to mention:
> 
> -This was beta'ed by my lovely friends, Maya and Abby. Without them, this would be a past/present tense mess.  
> -I know that electricity and muggle electronics don't function at Hogwarts, but this was too cute of an idea to scrap  
> -I will possibly be creating a series of one shots for this universe, as I have more and more ideas for it everyday! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate it!

October 10, 1993

The first time that Tim noticed him was at the library.

Well, he'd seen him around the castle before, but always in passing. It was a big school, afterall. Tim thought that they might be in the same year -fifth - but he can't be certain. He knew that the boy was a Ravenclaw, that much was obvious by the blue tie. Tim had stumbled across him whilst searching for a vacant study nook. He'd ventured in pretty deep, so to have come across another student was already peculiar.

What was more peculiar, however, and what had caused Tim to take a second glance, were the white... strings, hanging from the boy's ears. No, not strings, they didn't look like fabric. But what else could they be?

As he pondered, Tim noticed that the boy he had been staring - probably very blankly - at, was staring back.

Tim could feel his cheeks and neck grow hot at having been caught.

"Erm, hello. Sorry... for staring, um, at you." Tim apologized lamely, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. He stepped forward, in between the two bookcases that housed the study nook. There were a couple of these alcoves hidden throughout the library, though this was one of the few that had a window. The desk, built into the wall, was covered in parchment, a large book, and what Tim assumed were the boy's belongings.

"What were those things hanging from your ears?" Tim asked as he met the boy's eyes. They were a pretty shade of blue and brown, a stark contrast against the boy's fair skin.

At that point, the boy had ripped the objects in question from his ears, stuffing... whatever they were into his bag.

"What were what?" The boy finally spoke, and turned his body towards Tim.

Tim faltered. "Y'know, the white, I don't know,  _ things _ that were hanging from your ears. What were they?"

"What white things?" The boy questioned quickly. "I think you're seeing things." He had begun to gather his things from the table, and if Tim were an anxious person (which he most definitely was) he would think that the boy was trying to get away from him.

"What's your name, anyway? Don't think we've ever met." The boy questioned as he continued to pack away his things. Tim couldn't help but notice the speed and deftness of the boys hands, fingers long and delicate. He wondered if the boy played piano; he certainly had the hands for it.

Tim blinked as one of those hands came in front of his face. The boy was waving, trying to get Tim's attention.

"Ah, sorry, sorry, I was thinking of something. Um, my name, it's Tim. Or Timothy. I guess, whichever you prefer." Tim shuffled his feet. "My brother calls me Timmy, but I don't think he'd like it if someone else used that nickname, so I guess that one's out of the question. So, sorry, if you had your heart set on that one. Anyway-" The boy was staring at Tim once more, though this time there was a small smile on his face.

Tim blushed. "I'm, ah, rambling, aren't I? Tends to happen when I'm nervous." He quickly blanched. "Not that you make me nervous!" And then the boy was laughing softly.

"Hi, Tim, nice to meet you. I'm Rhys." He waited a beat. "You can just call me Rhys. No brother to come up with cool nicknames for me." Rhys’ grin grew, and Tim felt his shoulders relax at the sight.

Grinning back, Tim stuck his hand out for a shake. "Nice to meet you too!"

* * *

November 6, 1993

The next time that Tim noticed him was in the great hall.

It was early, just past 8, and Tim was alone, for the most part, at the Hufflepuff table. There weren’t many students at breakfast. Most of his friends were sleeping in, it being a Saturday and all. Tim would be too, if Jack hadn't specified they be up "At the ass-crack of dawn" (Jack's exact words) to practice quidditch. They're not even on the same team, Jack being in Gryffindor, but that doesn't stop him from insiting that Tim was the best practice partner he can find.

Jack, the asshole that he was, had yet to make an appearance in the great hall. Although his brother's tardiness annoyed him to no end, Tim can't say he's surprised. He'd prepared, and brought a book for the sole purpose of entertaining himself while waiting.

Rhys was also sitting alone, and, like Tim, was reading. Tim couldn't help but smile as he watched as Rhys attempted to bring a spoonful of cereal to his mouth without lifting his eyes from the page he was on. Those white strings were hanging from his ears again, though there's no shock in seeing them this time. Resting his head on his arms, Tim decided that he'll use the early morning as an opportunity to stare at Rhys without judgment.

_ 'That sounds creepy.'  _ He thought to himself, insisting that he's merely... studying the boy.

_ 'That sounds worse.' _

The brunette gave up, and settled with the fact that he was staring unabashedly at Rhys.

Rhys was... pretty. That was probably the best way to describe him. With high cheekbones, fair, unblemished skin, and pink lips. Though he couldn't see them at a distance, Tim remembered the electric blue and deep brown of Rhys' eyes.

He was tall, too, Tim remembered vaguely. When Rhys had stood in the library, Tim had been surprised by the other boy's height. In the library, and now in the great hall, Tim thought Rhys looked... small, while sitting. Almost as if the other boy tried to compact his lanky frame.

Tim brought his attention back to Rhys' face. The Ravenclaw boy had brown hair, bangs falling onto his forehead.  _ 'Chestnut,' _ Tim's brain offered, writing mind that it was. Tim’s eyes trailed back down to Rhys', and realised that the other boy was staring right back.

_ 'Shit,' _ Tim's mind offered, rather unhelpfully.

Just as quickly as he had looked, Rhys had already turned his eyes away, removing the white strings from his ears.

Tim doesn't get to dwell on the fact that Rhys had caught him staring, as he felt a hand land heavily on his shoulder.

"Goooood morning, shitbird." Jack all but shouted at Tim before he yawned obnoxiously. "What'cha staring at?" 

"Nothing, I'm not staring at anything." To emphasize his non-staring, he reached out for a slice of toast, spread butter and jam on it, and shoved it into his mouth. Tim, though he knew it was a fool's errand, hoped that Jack wouldn't press the subject further.

Jack did, of course, because he's an asshole. 

"C'mon Timmy, don't lie to me! That cute blush of yours tells me otherwise!" Tim felt the bench dip as Jack sat down next to him. "Who is it, who's the lucky fella?!" Jack poked a finger into Tim's cheek.

“Jackie,” Tim complained, swatting his brother’s hand away. Jack just laughed, and the conversation turned to quidditch.

* * *

December 1, 1993

Tim certainly hadn’t intended for it to happen, but he had begun to think of Rhys more and more. He still hadn’t figured out what the mysterious white strings were, and hadn’t found the chance to speak to Rhys since the library.

Tim was determined, however. 

His visits to the library increased, if that were possible. Before meeting Rhys, Tim could have reliably been found in about one of three places; the aforementioned library, the owlery, or the quidditch pitch. Though he still found the time to fly everyday (he’s still working on the whole fear-of-heights thing), his visits to the owlery and all of his little feathered friends had been fewer.

It was a snowy Tuesday afternoon when he met Rhys next. Tim had scored himself the very same study nook he had first met Rhys in. He’d made it a habit to return to that nook in particular, not because he was hoping Rhys would return to, no, he simply enjoyed the view the window offered.

_ ‘It is a nice view,’ _ He thought to himself. From his sitting position, he could see the Black Lake, and the surrounding hills. Head propped up by his hand, Tim watched as the heavy snowflakes drifted down, and recalled the boat ride that had granted him his first view of Hogwarts.

It had been a bitterly cold night, and  _ of course  _ Tim hadn’t wanted to get on a boat to sail across equally cold water. Jack had helped him in, and had only made fun of him a little when Tim started crying at the sight of the castle. 

Jack had always been the braver of the two, the more outspoken twin. And while Tim wouldn’t describe him as sympathetic, Jack knew what the sight of the castle had meant to Tim. Had meant for  _ both _ of them. 

They knew their Hogwarts letters would inevitably come, having been raised in a pureblood household. But when they finally arrived, when they had the chance to escape that  _ hell  _ of a home, well, Tim had felt very justified in his tears that day. They were tears of joy, afterall.

“Mind if I join you?” A voice roused Tim from his musings. It was Rhys, school bag slung over his shoulder, a soft smile on his face.

“Uh, yeah, yeah of course!” Tim responded, more enthusiastically than was necessary.

Rhys giggled, and moved to set his things opposite Tim’s. “Keep it down, we don’t want Madam Pince to come join us, now do we?”

Tim ducked his head in embarrassment. He snuck a glance at Rhys. The smile was still on the other boy's face, and it dimpled his cheeks in the cutest way Tim’s ever seen. 

“So, erm, Rhys, right?” Tim asked in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone, as if he hadn’t been looking forward to his next encounter with the Ravenclaw. Of course he hadn’t forgotten his name, but Tim didn't want to seem too creepy. Was it creepy to remember someone's name after only one conversation? Tim wasn’t sure, but better safe than sorry, right?

Rhys, to his credit, didn’t seem too offended by Tim’s question. “Yes, it’s Rhys. It’s nice to see you again, Timothy.”

And once more Tim felt his cheeks grow hot. Hearing his full name come from Rhys’ mouth sent a thrill down his spine, though he wasn’t entirely sure why.

“What year are you?” The question fell from his mouth. 

“I’m in my fifth year. Same as you.” Rhys responded. 

“How’d you know that I was in fifth year?” 

This time, it’s Rhys’ cheeks that became ruddy. “We’ve had a few classes together, in the past.”

Have they? Wouldn’t Tim have remembered seeing someone as cute as Rhys in one of his classes? _ ‘Leave it to me,’ _ Tim thought,  _ ‘and my fantastic lack of spatial awareness.’ _

“I am really, really sorry for not remembering. Or noticing. I’m sort of hyper focused in classes, Jack makes fun of me for it, actually. Says I’m like a niffler when they smell gold, all business, no play. Well, he doesn’t exactly put it that way, but I wouldn’t want to subject you to the language he uses.”

“Tim,” Rhys laughed. “Am I making you nervous?”

Tim looked down towards his lap. “Yes.”

“You know,” Rhys started, and Tim raised his head to look at the other boy. “I think I can trust you to keep a secret.” 

“Absolutely.” Tim responded immediately. Rhys could have told him that he was the illegitimate son of He-who-shall-not-be-named, and Tim would have kept his secret.

Rhys’ smile grew at Tim’s answer, and at that moment, Tim knew he would end up doing whatever would continue to make Rhys smile like that.

The Ravenclaw pulled something out of his bag, and placed it on the table between them. It was rectangular, that much Tim knew for sure, but as for its use, he hadn’t the foggiest. Those white strings that he’d been seeing were there, wrapped neatly around the object.

Tim glanced to Rhys, eyebrows furrowed.

“Any ideas as to what it is?” Rhys asked. Tim shook his head.

“Thought so. It’s called a Walkman.” 

“Ah,” Tim responded, even though he still felt confused. 

“My dad gave it to me, this past summer, as a birthday gift.”

Tim smiled indulgently. “Sounds like you have a nice dad.” Rhys nodded in agreement.

“The best. Anyway, it’s for playing music.” Rhys explained.

“It’s rather… small, isn’t it? How does that play music?” 

Rhys began to unwrap the white strings. “Muggles can be pretty inventive, even without magic,” The strings were unwrapped, and Rhys pressed something on the side of the box. A hatch popped open, and Tim jumped, surprised. 

Rhys continued to explain. “There are these things called cassette tapes, that have songs stored on them. You place the tapes into the Walkman, and you can listen to music on repeat!” 

Tim could feel as his curiosity bubbled to the surface. “How is it powered, if not by magic?” He questioned, as he leaned forward in his seat.

“By something called batteries.” At that, Rhys pulled two cylindrical shaped things from the back of the box. “Don’t ask me how they work, I don’t know the specifics, but,” The Ravenclaw reached out and grabbed the Hufflepuff’s right hand, “They are fantastic.” He placed one of the batteries onto Tim’s open palm.

Tim turned the object in his hand. Again, he was confused by the size of it. It didn’t look like it could do much of anything, much less power a music player. 

“How long do these last? Forever?” Tim scrunched his nose in confusion. 

“That would be brilliant!” Rhys responded enthusiastically. “But unfortunately not. If I used it sparsely, I could make it last for a week or two. I tend to listen to music more while I write, so if Snape assigned a foot or more of parchment, two batteries would last me around two days.”

Tim grinned, happy that he could again understand what Rhys meant. “Greasy git, he always gives long essays.” Rhys laughed, and nodded his head in agreement.

“Exactly. I go through more batteries than I’d like to admit.”

“As fascinating as this is, I don’t understand how you’ve gotten a muggle item to work in the castle.” It was a well known fact that many muggle gadgets failed to operate once they entered the castle grounds, due to magical interference, or the rare pesky Chizpurfle. Even purebloods like Tim were aware of that fact.

Rhys bit at his bottom lip. “Yeah… dad didn’t really understand that, even after explaining it to him. He looked so excited when he gave it to me,” Rhys began to fiddle the device. “I couldn't bear to leave it behind. It took some tweaking, and loads of research, but I’ve figured a way around the interference.” He finished.

Tim raised his eyebrows. “Rhys, that’s incredible! That must’ve taken some complex magic.” Rhys ducked his head, clearly pleased by the praise. 

“How did you accomplish that?” Tim asked with genuine interest.

“Now I can’t share all of my secrets with you, now can I?” Rhys responded cheekily. 

An easy silence had settled between the two. The silence hadn’t lasted long before Rhys had sidled to Tim’s side of the table.

By instinct, Tim scooted back, unused to having someone that close to him (besides Jack, of course. His twin had no concept of personal space, or chose to ignore it if he did). Tim felt the slick sheen of sweat that had begun to form on his palms, and fought the urge to wipe them against his pant legs.

“Can I show you one of my favorite songs?” Rhys asked eagerly. Hesitantly, Tim nodded his head, and Rhys shoved one of the strings into Tim’s hand. 

The Ravenclaw demonstrated how to fit the white piece into his ear, and Tim quickly replicated his movements. After a few more moments of fiddling with the device, Rhys pressed a small, green button on the side.

A low, thrumming beat filled Tim’s head. Then, a rhythmic tapping noise, followed by a low, crooning male voice.

_ Come, as you are, as you were, as I waant you to be _

_ As a friend, as a friend, as a known enemy _

It was like nothing he’d ever heard before. He and Jack would hear their grandmother listening to Celestina Warbeck on occasion, but never had Tim heard such… defiance, such passion. 

_ Come, doused in mud, soaked in bleach, as I waant you to be, _

_ As a trend, as a friend, as a known memoria _

The music picked up, the tapping more insistent. Tim felt the thrumming beat deep in his bones. The singer continued, their voice simultaneously soft and resolute.

Tim wasn’t sure how long they sat there.

Long after the song had petered out, Tim turned his head toward Rhys, eyes wide.

Rhys stared at the Hufflepuff, a question sat clearly on the tip of his tongue. 

“That was… incredible!” The words flew from Tim’s mouth. “I can’t… if I was caught listening to that when I was younger...!” Tim gestured his hands around, unsure of what point he wanted to make with the motions. 

Rhys bounced in his seat at Tim’s words. “I know! I know. The band is called Nirvana, they’re from America! They’re my dad’s favorite. I’m so glad you enjoyed it!” 

Rhys’ grin was infectious. Tim knew he probably looked like an idiot, but at that moment, he couldn’t find the energy to care what others thought of him.

At that moment it was just Rhys and Tim, shoulder to shoulder in the library, bound together by some muggle instrument Tim couldn’t explain.

And he wouldn’t have spent his time any other way. 

**Author's Note:**

> Song: Come As You Are, Nirvana  
> Album: Nevermind, 1991


End file.
